


Habits

by kandichi



Category: Chinese Actor RPF
Genre: 24/7 D/s Lifestyle, BDSM, Begging, Domme Gui, Even the plot is a bit porn-y idk, F/M, Femdom, Omorashi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Safe Sane and Consensual, Total Power Exchange, kind of PWP, sub Aaron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kandichi/pseuds/kandichi
Summary: Hanging fastidiously on every word, seeking permission with every move...sometimes some little things just become habits. Sometimes some habits grow dull and sometimes we try to break out of their routines, but only when they come to a sudden halt do we realize how important they were to begin with.24/7 TPE.





	Habits

 

_There were no words to describe the tranquility that came with absolute surrender. It was a viscous numb that enveloped all thoughts, all sensations, so that nothing felt real - yet everything felt safe, so it didn’t really matter._

_Emma stood over him, fingers lightly trailing along his chest. The tickling sensation floated slowly into his thoughts and melded with the dull ache from his backside, soothed by a cool gel. She held a candle in one hand, the wax pink and runny in its little crater, and soon tipped it nimbly over the back of her other arm. He heard her make a little hiss, and somewhere in the back of his mind Aaron knew that this would hurt. And he could hardly wait for it. He wanted the numb to come on stronger. He watched as the candle tipped again, then the thoughts were melted by the wax._

_The first drop landed thickly onto his thigh and a splash of warm spread along his leg. Another, then another, climbed up and along his stomach, narrowly missing his arousal, dancing for attention. Aaron didn’t hurt, just felt warm, like soft sunlight was kissing his skin._

_The warmth…didn’t fade like he expected. It became more intense as it spread up his legs…his stomach…sunlight? Wait, what day was it?_

 

Aaron awoke with a start, squinting at the bright beam of light that came in through his curtains. He took a quick look at the time - 10 am - and jolted up in bed, his heart pounding at his throat. It was his day off, which as per usual meant he’d had to be at the gym two hours ago.

What would he say to Emma? Could he have an excuse? He’d tripped his way to the closet and had gotten halfway through putting on his socks when he finally remembered, _oh,_ he didn’t have to go anymore.

It was then that he finally fully awoke, and immediately wished that he hadn’t. His regimented schedule had ended a few months ago alongside his and Emma’s invested power exchange, and it was by his own doing. Disappointment drained his adrenaline all too quickly and Aaron felt weak as he trudged his way back to his bedroom, one sock still bunched halfway up his foot.

He had been happy, the first week they transitioned. To say that he had tired of Emma’s omnipresent control was an understatement. He had just about demanded they take a break, abusing his safewords and throwing childish tantrums on more than a few of their weekends together, until Emma finally gave up and declared she was no longer going to deal with it. Tantrums won, but for what? A few days of meaningless self-indulgence? It wasn’t long before he sank into the quicksand of regret that was his current life.

Emma had decided on ‘a few’ weeks when she declared they would take a break, and stubbornly refused to hear it every time Aaron tried to bring up anything about renegotiating. Their relationship currently was the definition of vanilla, but Aaron felt it was the most thorough lesson he had received from a punishment in his life. Never misuse his safewords. Never.

The thought of resorting to begging had begun tickling at his mind in the past few days, and Aaron finally decided that he needed to try. Perhaps that was what she had been waiting for, or perhaps it would surprise her enough to work. He took a deep breath and decidedly dialed her number.

“Hey honey.” She picked up after just a couple of rings, her voice cheerful. “Just woke up?”

“Ah--mhm,” his answer was weak with the guilt of missing his schedule. “How did you know?”

“So I guessed right?” She sounded triumphant, “call it intuition.”

“Okay,” he laughed. Her so-called intuition likely came from her understanding of his routine, but it was frighteningly sharp nonetheless. “Last night you said you were coming back to Taipei soon? When will you be here?”

“Ah, I actually had a schedule change this morning, so I’m here now.” Her voice turned sweet, “did you miss me hubby?”

Aaron’s heart warmed with the endearment. “I miss you every day,” he admitted. “If you’re back could we talk about something?”

“What is it? Go on.”

“In person...is what I meant.” His response came out with a touch of frustration. Her knack for misinterpretation was an all too familiar hazard for him. “Can I come visit you today?”

“Oh, actually,” she paused for a second, “why don’t I come over for breakfast?”

“...Huh? Are you leaving now?”

“Yep. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Isn’t your house pretty far--” He didn’t get the chance to finish before the line went dead.

 

She was indeed there within a few minutes. Aaron barely had time to finish washing up before the doorbell rang. He was surprised, confused, but also felt some hope; surprise visits usually came alongside surprise revelations with Emma.

Aaron had thought a lot over the past few days about how he could go about begging her, if he would end up going this route. In the end he decided on doing what he knew best. He made her a mug of coffee as she got settled on the sofa, and knelt in front of her to hand it to her.

“You look absolutely stunning today,” he murmured softly, putting on his best puppy face as he blinked at her through his long lashes. Her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing as she accepted the drink proffered in his hands. He laid them down on her knees as they emptied, taking in the sight of her from this angle he had missed so much.

His own white t-shirt and sleeping shorts were a stark comparison to her pristine gray dress, and her makeup was done to perfection where his hair was still ruffled with sleep. He thought she must have come directly from work.

Emma took a sip of the drink that was made surely to her liking and gave him a dubious once-over, trying quite obviously to hide her delight at his compliment. “And you look like you skipped the gym today, hmm?”

The comment made something familiar stir within him, and his eyes widened in realization that she was giving him a chance. Heart pounding erratically, he jumped on it.

“I need to apologize--” He shuffled closer to her, and guilt filled his expression. “I’m really, very sorry about all of the complaints and safewording. I was incredibly immature handling my own limits. I know I’ve disappointed you…” He could read nothing from her watchful expression, but he pressed on. “But I’ve learned my lesson, I promise, I can’t live without my Mistress. So please will you forgive me? As my Mistress?”

She regarded him for a long time without saying anything, seemingly not in a hurry at all, sipping slowly at her coffee. Her gaze became coldly analytic and soon Aaron felt a shade of chagrin creep up on him, the familiar smallness of being chastised.

“…Please?” He lowered his gaze sorrily, suddenly sure that the past few months were a punishment and suddenly afraid she might prolong it further. His hands desperately massaged her legs and feet in an attempt at conciliation, continuing to murmur a soft string of ‘please’ and ‘sorry’s until finally he heard the clink of her mug against the coffee table and felt a hand on his chin.

She lifted his face up to meet her eyes. “When do you use your safewords?” Her tone was steely, but amidst the shame Aaron felt a rush of relief.

He drew in a muted breath, attention fixed on being pliant. “Only when I’m at my limit. Not when I don’t feel like doing something.” His eyes slid down again in shame, but she snapped her fingers and they snapped back obediently.

“What will you do when you need to talk?”

“I tell you so and talk properly. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you for challenging me. I’m so sorry.”

She nodded in acceptance and released her grip, running a hand through his disheveled hair instead. “You really pushed me, babe,” her voice turned soft and just a bit fragile, “I thought you hated me for a while there.”

He nodded, an apologetic look knitting his brow. “Will you forgive me? I'd forgotten how important our lifestyle was for me--for us. It was really a lesson well-learned. My most memorable punishment.”

There was a final pause, then she said gently, “I forgive you, pet,” and Aaron felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “What do you call me?”

“Mistress!” The relief painted a silly smile across his face. He turned to kiss the hand running through his locks. “I love you, Mistress.”

“I never expected to have this conversation, and I never expect to have it again, is that clear?” He nodded like a bobble head as she leaned over to retrieve the empty mug and pushed it into his hands.

“Never!” He put the mug to his heart and raised his other hand to gesture an oath, “I swear!”

Emma laughed and swatted his hand playfully. “Go make me my breakfast! Then we’ll have the talk we should have had in the first place.”

Aaron grabbed her hand and kissed it again, throwing back a, “yes Mistress,” before he bounced off to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

The transitional period was hard for Aaron to readjust to, particularly because of the new expectations Emma had laid out for him. The first few weeks came with countless nights of quiet tears and soft apologies, promises that he would try harder and reminders that he was better than this. But even still, he’s happier now than he has ever felt in the past few months.

This morning Aaron kneels by his door, waiting for Emma to arrive in the few hours before her flight. She’s about to head back to mainland, and Aaron tries not to think about what she might ask of him while she’s gone.

He has his hair down, bangs combed to the front the way she likes to see, and he wears nothing except for a pair of boxers to cover his manhood, still semi-hard from how she’d told him to tease earlier.

His hands fidget on his thighs and he shifts restlessly from knee to knee. He hasn’t had a chance to ask for the bathroom since she woke him and he’s starting to become desperate. He checks the clock several times a minute until finally, the doorbell rings.

Aaron barely paused to check the security monitor before opening the door for her, and she comes in with her suitcase in tow, looking ready to board the plane. She offers him a foot once he’s locked the door behind her, and he reverently takes off her sneakers, placing a gentle kiss on each foot before he finally takes in the sight of her.

She has her hair tied half-up sloppily and wears a comfortable-looking long t-shirt that just about hides the jean shorts underneath. He smiles at her as she pulls off her sunglasses.

“Aren’t you afraid of bumping into fans at the airport?” He jests, pushing her travel case into the corner and shuffling along with her as she walks to the bedroom. She turns on him with an impish smile on her face.

“Speak properly.”

“Adorable. You look so cute.”

She turns away, satisfied. “Alright, I’ll do my hair after, okay?”

He chuckles and is about to joke at her again when a wave of desperation wipes the grin from his face.

“Um, may I please use the toilet, Mistress?” He wants to say that he hasn’t gone since waking up, but she mutely shakes her head, ‘no,’ and he swallows the words, because he knows that she’s aware.

Emma seats herself on his bed when she reaches his room, gesturing at the spot by her feet, and he drags over the dog cushion laid out on the floor for him, getting settled on his haunches. She puts a foot between his knees and nudges them apart until he can’t split them anymore, and nods happily as she runs her foot along the bulge in his taut boxers.

“How long has it been, hun?” Her voice is teasingly sweet in the way that he loves, and it takes him no time at all to be quivering under her light touches.

“I-In two days it will be two weeks, Mistress.”

She hums in consideration and continues to concentrate on her teasing, occasionally toying with his balls or pinching the head of his cock between her toes. Aaron soon loses control over the little moans that breach his lips, but she makes no move to quiet him down.

“That’s not such a long time, is it?” She finally asks, and Aaron only keeps his eyes down because he doesn’t know how to respond. Sure, two weeks without orgasm is not a difficult milestone for him, but with her ordering him to edge twice a day and often adding more during his breaks, he’s spent the past week or so in an agony of arousal.

“Should I make you continue until I get back?” She teases, and blown pupils snap up to her, taking in her expression of mirth.

“Please no, Mistress. I don’t think I can last another two weeks.” His expression knots up in trepidation. “It already hurts very badly.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about it,” she murmurs, continuing her ministrations until she notices him straining to keep still. When she takes her foot away he’s not far off from climax, and Aaron closes his eyes as he fights to keep his hands on his thighs, taking long, slow breaths to calm himself.

When he opens them again she holds a bottle of nail polish in her hand, a light silver shade that glows in the light, and offers it to him.

“Redo the polish on my toes, sweetie” she instructs him, handing him a bottle of polish remover from her purse when he accepts the silver, “keep your legs spread and stay still. If I catch you fidgeting I’ll make you restart.”

He nods complaisantly even though he’s not sure he can do it, and quickly busies himself with wiping off the old colour on her toes. Doing her nails is no challenge - he’s done it many times before - but keeping still soon becomes a nightmare when his erection wilts and his need to pee resurfaces.

She makes him restart once when his hands shake so much that he paints all over her toe, and a second time when he can’t help but grab himself as his pee is about to leak. The third time he wipes the polish clean from her feet it's been nearly an hour and he’s pleading with her, shaking all over and absolutely positive that he can’t last until the job is finished. She just watches him with a pleased smile on her lips, no indication that she can hear his desperation.

The third time he finally understands that he has no choice, really. He thinks about anything but the bathroom and focuses on keeping still even as he leaks uncontrollably, and in an act of leniency Emma doesn’t stop him even as she watches the wet spot spread on his boxers. When he finishes the last layer of topcoat he has tears in his eyes, but her hand is in his hair at once, pulling him in, kissing them away. Her lips trail a line down his cheek until they finally land on his, pulling him in for a deep, dominating kiss.

“Good boy,” she praises under her breath, a string of saliva breaking as she pulls away, and Aaron feels the pride well within him.

She points him to the washroom and he rushes, scarcely forgetting to thank her as he shuts the door behind him.

When he returns, unwound, he finds her with her shorts and underwear tossed on his bed, and he quickly finds his place again between her legs.

“How do you feel, pet?” She asks.

He considers the question for a moment, because there are too many words for how he feels right now. “Owned,” he settles for at last, a dash of chagrin colouring his cheeks.

She snickers and hooks a leg behind his neck, pulling him in to her sex. He eagerly follows to nestle his nose between her folds, savouring the familiar scent.

She’s dripping wet and he doesn’t risk teasing her, not wanting to provoke her anger. He just sticks out his tongue and works quickly, using broad strokes, swirls, and nips on her clit, listening carefully to the noises she makes. He's good - practiced - at judging how close she is and builds the intensity just so, until she finally comes from it, clenching her legs around him.

He stays there as she recovers, occasionally nudging her gently with his tongue to remind her of his position, though he’s careful to avoid her nub in fear of over-stimulating her. She releases him eventually, pushing him back with her legs as she rolls into a more comfortable position in his bed, and he settles back down onto the dog cushion to wait for her.

He’s hard again, but he knows better than to touch himself. His boxers are wet and his cushion is too, but he doesn't dare to shift away from his position. He’s learned the hard way not to move after she’s positioned him, and it’s not a lesson he wants to revisit.

She takes a long time to regain her composure, but eventually she sits up and turns to fetch her clothes. Another time, Aaron might have teased about how she could manage such an overwhelming orgasm, but he can hardly find the words now. All he wants is for her to be in a good mood, and maybe she would show him some kindness.

“You’re being such a good boy,” she says after studying him for some time, legs still splayed apart the way she left him, and he nods insistently. “Let's keep you that way. Go fetch your lube.”

She points to the chest under his bed, the one where all his toys are kept, and Aaron suddenly gets an unsettling feeling. He pulls it out from under his bed and hands it to her, hands a little unsteady as he asks, “will you let me come today, Mistress?”

She only chuckles in answer, and manipulates him with her feet until he’s got his back facing her, ass in the air. She pulls his boxers down to his knees, and he hears the pop of the bottle opening.

“Please, Mistress?” He whines, knowing what’s to come as he feels her fingers, slick with lube, breach his opening. She finds his prostate quickly, and he feels a pressure build along his shaft as she starts pushing and squeezing against it.

“I know you want an orgasm, but isn’t what I want more important?” Her voice coos from behind him, and he has no defense. “I want you to stay nice and obedient for me. I want you to be horny and desperate so that you stay on your best behaviour. And that’s for me to decide, isn’t it, pet?”

He can only agree, helpless as the first dribble of seed leaks unfeelingly out of his penis. No pleasure, just a release of pressure, like his sexual energy is drained without any of the satisfaction that comes with a real release.

Emma’s not unfamiliar with milking him, and he watches mournfully as he quickly empties under her insistent touch. He feels as if he’s lost the result of two weeks of suffering, but it truly enforces to him that he’s owned; that his pleasure is owned. It’s always a reminder like no other.

He feels empty when she pulls out - physically, but also emotionally; the frustration of arousal has lost its edge, and he’s left with only a sense of subservience. He thanks her, and she pulls him up with a smile.

“See, you’re so much better when you don’t come,” she remarks, and he nods in agreement. “Can you get soft, or do you need some ice?” She asks, pulling out a metal device from her purse. A chastity cage, her favourite one for how she can tease him from between the ribs.

He draws in a deep breath when he sees it, but he’s not entirely surprised. “I can get soft,” he says, shaking his head, and she agrees, patting the spot beside her on the bed for him to climb up.

They cuddle and she praises him for how well he’s done, goes over what she expects of him while she’s gone, and he tells her about his schedule and when he’s going to have free time between work. Soon enough he’s completely soft and he allows her to fasten the cage onto him, watching as the lock clicks with a sense of familiarity.

She gives him a little box which holds a backup key, locked with a disposable lock, as she leaves for the airport. He checks the lock plate after she’s gone - an unfamiliar number, replaced when he’d gotten fed up and defiantly ripped it open a few months ago - and tucks it at the very bottom of his toy chest. He’s not going to touch it, this time.

She’s past security when she receives a text, one that pings with a special priority tone. _You are so mean. Have a safe flight_ , it reads, with a little heart.

She sends him back a heart, along with an unapologetic ghost emoji.

Her phone sounds again a moment later, and it’s a picture of him in his closet, showcasing a few outfits of his choosing.

 _Blue one, with the black jeans,_ she responds, and smiles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless self-indulgence. :D


End file.
